


Down the Old Dirt Lane

by Dedfa (AntlersandFangs)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:23:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntlersandFangs/pseuds/Dedfa
Summary: "Life is strange" my father said"Life is strange" my father said"Life is strange" my father said"Oh be quiet dear, and bake some bread."That is what my mother said."Never stare at those with too many eyessharper teeth than you think is wise.Say the truth and pay what's dueAnd never let a promise fall through."





	1. Chapter 1

The locals told me not to stay outside during the heat of the day on midsummer. I smiled and thanked them for their advice, but ignored it. It was not that hot here, nowhere near as hot as where I grew up. I could handle the midsummer sun, so I believed. 

I was in my garden, turning the earth to accept the willow tree I had been gifted by the toothless and blind old lady that ran the produce truck by the cross roads. I had dug her garden for her and afterwards she had hauled the tree out of her house and had smiled broadly, her clouded eyes bright with happiness. “For you! For you! It will bring you luck. It’s the least I can do for a kind little thing like you.” 

It was sweet, and I had always dreamed of having a willow tree with great, drooping curtains of branches that I could sit beneath and read or cross-stitch. So I had thanked her for the gift and had pressed a kiss to her weathered cheek before hauling the potted tree home. 

So here I was, near the middle of midsummer’s day, digging a hole to house my willow tree. I would have to wait years before I could read beneath it, but I didn’t mind. I had spent the earlier part of the day planting native trees and fruit trees. I knew how to be patient. I dug the hole, and wiped sweat from my forehead before I carefully coaxed the willow tree from its pot and placed it into the earth. 

I had just finished patting the last of the dirt into place around it when I heard a curious rumbling sound coming down my driveway. I picked up my shovel and stood to see what it was, shading my eyes from the sun directly overhead. 

To my surprise, it was a group of motorcycle riders with bright sunburst and arching tree patches on their leather jackets. They came to a stop a few yards away from me and the roar of their engines cut off, leaving a quiet ticking of cooling engines amidst the cloud of dust they had kicked up.

I smiled at them, feeling nervous but unwilling to be rude. “Welcome to my place, y’all. You want some lemonade?”

The leader with the most leaves sewn onto the sleeve of their jacket swung their long legs off of the their bike and sauntered towards me, pulling their helmet off as they approached to reveal a sweaty cascade of brown curls and dark, freckled skin.

“It’s awful hot for someone like you to be outside.” Her voice was warm and low, like the sound of distant thunder heralding the rain. 

“It’s not that hot.” I smiled at her and gestured at the trees. “I wanted to get these babies into the ground before the season was too far gone.”

Her sharp black eyes ran over the evidence of the day’s labor and I thought I caught sight of a pointed tip of brown ear from the tumble of her curls. “That’s a lot of trees.” She sounded pleased and I jumped onto the chance to talk about my vision with someone interested, despite the oddity of around a dozen helmeted bikers sitting in my driveway. 

“Oh, yes! I’m planning on getting a lot more too! My plan is to turn the front yard into my food forest, and the back into a habitat for native species of plants and wildlife. I have to put up a better fence between the two areas, but I wanted to get the trees a chance to root before I work on that.” I gently patted the branches of the willow tree. “This little one was a gift.”

“I can see that.” She circled the tree, and me, with a graceful stalk that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. “You have made a powerful friend.” 

“Um.” I said intelligently as she reached out and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Um, do y’all want some lemonade? I made some this morning with honey and real lemons?”

She smiled and threw her head back into a low, powerful laugh. “Oh, I like you! Yes, I believe I would like some lemonade, little tree planter.”

She twirled to wave at her gang, her curls swirling around her in a mesmerizing flare of honey scented tresses, before she turned back and took my arm, not seeming to care that I was smearing sweat and dirt onto her jacket. I tried very hard not to stare as the gang removed their helmets and unmounted their motorcycles to follow us into the house. 

I could have sworn that one of them had needle sharp teeth and another had too many eyes, but my mama had taught me not to stare and I had lemonade to pour. Besides, it’s not everyday a pretty biker woman with adorable freckles and bright black eyes announces that she likes you and takes your arm. So what if they were all a little too tall and a little too sharp? She was pretty and I always like meeting new friends. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Your shoes are lovely!” I exclaim as I stop by the pickup truck parked by the crossroads. She’s set up a threadbare canopy over the mountain of watermelons and peaches spill from plastic laundry baskets. Her shoes are wooden clogs spattered in a rainbow of paint colors. I love them. My dogs pant happily from their traces. 

“You’re just saying that so I’ll give you a discount.” She laughs, her weathered face splitting into an amused grin. 

“No, ma’am!” I shake my head despite knowing she can’t see me. “I don’t lie and I pay what’s fair!”

Her face settles into something serious and her clouded eyes appear to focus on me. After a long second she reaches out and pats my arm. “That you do, dearie. A little bird told me you are going to need berries so I set aside a basket for you. It’s on the front seat.”

“I do actually! I have some guests and I want to make them berries and cream for breakfast.” There were currently thirteen bikers sleeping in my living room in an eye-bending sprawl of limbs and leather jackets. We had stayed up late talking about our favorite plants and drinking homemade lemonade, which, come to think of it, had lasted much longer than it should have. I grabbed the basket of berries from the seat and walked back to her as I pulled out my wallet. 

She chuckled. “They will enjoy that, I believe.”

“How much for the berries? Oh, and uh, two watermelons and let’s say fourteen of everything else.” It’ll run me a pretty bit, but I don’t mind. 

There’s another long silence as she considers, or maybe she’s doing the math in her head. I begin counting out my purchase into my own laundry baskets and set them in front of her so she can touch them to make sure I’m not stealing from her. Finally, as I lay the last tomato into the basket, she speaks and her voice sounds a bit whispery. 

“Eighty for everything.”

I count out eighty dollars and hand it to her. “For the produce.” I then put another ten into her hand. “And a gift.” 

The wind halts and the summer sun feels hot against the back of my neck. She tilts her head and taps the bill with her thumb. “It’s not for the berries?”

“No, ma’am. You told me how much everything cost and I paid it. That’s a gift.” 

She laughs and the world feels a little brighter. A mocking bird shrieks from a shrub. “You’re a treasure, dearie. Don’t let them steal you away.”

“I don’t reckon much could get me out of here. I’m setting in roots.” I heft up a basket of produce to load into my cart. 

“That you are. Tell you what, if you take two lefts and two rights down that road,” She pointed down a road behind me. “You’ll find a house painted blue. He sells the sweetest cream.” 

“Thank you.” I press a kiss to her cheek and she playfully swats at me with one hand while the money disappears into the the folds of her skirts. 

I load up the produce and pick up my dogs’ leash. Seems like I have a dairy farmer to visit before I head back to feed my biker guests.


	3. Chapter 3

As much as I loved the little town I had moved to, I still felt a profound sense of relief when I set foot over my property line. There is nothing quite as lovely as the feeling of coming home after an adventure. As I led my dogs to the house, I began to notice something odd about the place. The chicken feeder was full. The goat’s water trough was also filled with clean water and I saw one of them munching on some hay. The trees were dripping as if they had just been watered, and the windows to my home were sparkling in the sunlight. Unusual since they had been covered in pollen and dust since I moved in.

I unharnessed my dogs and pet each on on the ears before whispering, “Relax.” They shook their fur out and trotted off to their filled food bowls happily. I grabbed a laundry basket of produce and kicked my front door open. The inside of the house was as unusually clean as the outside, and I got my first hint as to what had happened when I walked into the kitchen to find a biker with green hair up on a stool and wiping the dust off of the light fixture.

“Oh! Thank you all! The place looks lovely!” I was never one to be ungrateful for a bit of help. I set the basket of produce down and headed back out for the rest. By the time I had all of the fruit in, the other bikers had started drifting towards the kitchen. I washed my hands and then set about washing the berries as they silently put away my sparse cleaning supplies.

I set out bowls and filled them with berries and then began drizzling cream over them. The leader, the pretty one with curly brown hair and black eyes, leaned onto the table in a mouth watering sprawl. Her brown legs peeked out of my robe, drawing my eyes back to line of color amidst the green fabric.

“What is this, Little One?” Her low voice drew my attention away from the curve of her thigh and back to the fact that I was preparing breakfast for everyone. The others seemed to be watching me with amusement.

“Oh, berries and cream. It’s one of my favorite breakfasts and I thought y’all might like it too.” I picked up one of the filled bowls and carried it to her. She gently took it from me, her fingers brushing over mine quite purposefully.

“May I have your name?” Her lips parted into a sharp smile, her black eyes glittering beautifully.

I laughed and turned away to serve the rest of the gang their breakfast. “Oh, I don’t give my name away that easily.”

“Wise.” The one with needle like teeth grinned.

As they ate, I began slicing fruit up to snack on during the day. “Do y’all have plans? I have to get some work done around the place, but y’all are welcome to hang out.”

The black eyed one tilted her head, cream clinging to her lower lip. “Would you bind us here, Little one?”

“Oh! No! Y’all can come and go as y’all please.” I laughed. “I just want you to know that you’re welcome here.”

She grinned and moved towards me, reaching out to stroke a strand of hair that had escaped my haphazard braid. “Would you like to ride with us?” She leaned close enough that her berry scented breath brushed my cheek. “You could come with me.”

My pulse jumped, but I just reached up to wipe the cream from her lip. “As lovely as that sounds, this is my place. I do not want to leave it. You can ride as you please, and I will be here if you ever want to return.” Nomadic biker gang just wasn’t my wish for life.

“It could be many years before we rode back this way.” She murmured.

“Then it will be many years.” I smiled softly. I had no claim on her.

Her deep black eyes searched my face for a long moment before she sighed softly and pressed a kiss to my forehead, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. “Very well, Little One.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was the cooler hours before the sun had fully risen, but the heat from the fire crisped the air around me as I stood guard with my shovel, carefully turning earth and branches to keep the blaze where I wanted it. Sweat poured from my skin and evaporated just as quickly, leaving me covered in rivulets of soot and dirt. It was hot, beautiful work as I tended my fire. 

Her dark eyes never left me as she split the pistachios I had given to her, retrieving the sweet meat with her tongue and teeth and tossing the shells to the flames. I snatched a floating cinder from the air before it could land on her hair and crushed it against my wet jeans. The fire reflected in her black eyes gave her an otherworldly air as she slowly, reverently poured another glass of water over my head to protect me from the heat. I could feel it in my spine that if I allowed it, she would kiss me despite the dirt and soot and salt on my lips. 

I gave her a smile and moved to shove a smoking limb back to the center of the blaze. The sun’s rays peeked over the horizon and amid the crackle and pop of the flames, I heard the faint sound of an engine as familiar to me as my own hands. The well remembered image of white and gold paint followed the purr of a well tended engine. I smiled fondly as I waited for it to cut out, most likely between the pair of oaks I had just planted at the end of my drive. 

It was a few minutes before he appeared, his white shirt rumpled from the protective clothing he always wore when he rode his bike. He stood next to me silently, his eyes settled suspiciously on my visitor.

“So she let you out early?” I asked, bumping into him with my shoulder and leaving soot on the white of his sleeve.

He let out a silent laugh that was no less mirthful for the lack of sound. He pointed up at the sky and shrugged before glancing back at my guest in obvious question. I looked up at the setting of the full moon and frowned. “Been a month already? Feels like I just got here.” 

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” She murmured as she approached. She tilted her head at him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

He shook his head and bowed slightly before extending his hand. She accepted it politely before stepping back with a quiet hiss. “You shouldn’t be here, this isn’t her place. She has no rule here.”

He shrugged and gestured to me. I frowned at her. “This is my place and he is welcome.”

“By what right?” Her eyes flashed in the flames and I took the time to bat a cinder from the air before replying.

“By the right of blood. This is my land, and he is my father.” 

Her gaze flicked to the drops of dried blood on my arm from where I had tangled with a particularly stubborn vine in the quest to reclaim a plot of land to grow flowers for the bees. She abruptly relaxed and smiled, all sharp teeth and friendly menace. “True. You both seem to have bought your rights dearly.” She pressed a gentle kiss to my temple and I felt a cool rush of energy through my limbs at the brush of her lips. “I’ll see you at sunset, enjoy your visit.”


End file.
